


The Christmas Mission

by Kungfoogirl



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, Slow Burn, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21964588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kungfoogirl/pseuds/Kungfoogirl
Summary: Tracer leads a mission to deliver presents to the kids on King's Row. However, Talon, a snowstorm and an angry bookseller complicate the mission
Relationships: Emily/Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Tracer has a bad day.

“Bollocks!” muttered Tracer as the sniper round slammed into the wall just above her head, covering her in a dusting of plaster and dirt. She was starting to get a little nervous. Her day was not going as planned, by any stretch of the imagination, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep the cheerful disposition she worked so hard to maintain.

“Um, guys? Help?” she whispered in to her headset.

“Where are you?” replied Pharah.

“Pinned down behind the concierge desk of the Adlerworth Hotel. When Talon showed up, I got separated from you guys! Widowmaker is in the alcove above me. If you distract her, I can blink out of here.”

“Roger that!”

Tracer closed her comms set and readied herself to make an escape. She inched near the open doorway, and scanned the narrow street to make sure her route was safe. Snow fell steadily, but gently, on the cobblestones and the wind created little snowdrifts in the corners between the shops. She could hear the occasional gunfire from the fight a few streets over, but it looked as if the sniper was her only company at the moment. A slight smile tugged at her lips. She knew that it was perhaps odd to find beauty and serenity in such close proximity to violence, but she savored it nonetheless.

Moments later, Tracer could hear the jets of Pharah’s Raptora flight suit, and she knew that this was her chance to get out of this lobby and help the rest of her team. Her airborne savior flew over the top of a neighboring building and took aim at the small room where Widowmaker was entrenched. Pharah quickly fired two rockets through the open archway, hoping to displace the sniper. It was Christmas Eve, and Pharah wasn’t interested in hurting anyone, she just needed to give Tracer enough cover to escape.

As the rockets landed above her, Tracer used her chronal accelerator once to blink through the doorway, and once again to get around the corner and out of the sniper’s sights. She heard the sound of a grappling hook, and knew that Widowmaker had safely re-positioned herself somewhere above the rest of the small team of Overwatch agents. This was Tracer’s hometown. She could run these streets with her eyes closed. After all, her flat was just a short walk from here and she’d spent years in these streets struggling for omnic rights. Tracer knew what she had to do.

“Clear!” Tracer reported back to Pharah.

“Roger. Returning to the team.”

“I’m going after her, to end this.”

“Lena…”

“Don’t worry, I just need her to leave us alone.I won’t hurt her.Not today.”

“Be safe, habibti.”

“Aye. You too, love.”

Tracer quickly made her way through the stairwells and empty corridors, hunting the sniper.Over the comms, she could hear her team as they coordinated their defense and tried desperately to keep one another safe. Without a medic among them, Tracer became increasingly concerned about her friends the longer the fight dragged on. She zipped from room to room, building to building, trying to find her nemesis. She danced around the edges of the skirmish, waiting for the sniper to reveal her location.

****

“Anyone have eyes on Widowmaker? I seem to have l lost her…”

Wilhelm Reindhardt, her friend and hero, replied. “Negative, kiddo! But we have our hands full with these pesky Talon grunts. We could use a hand.”

“On my way!”

Tracer zipped her way through the alleys toward the heart of the fight, disabling an enemy turret on her way. She blinked through the Talon agents and safely joined her team behind Reinhardt’s shield.

“Let’s clear some of these guys out, and then go after Widowmaker. We can make her call off the attack!” Tracer shouted over the gunfire and explosions. “This has to end now! We’re not a combat mission. We don’t have a medic.”

Pharah readied her rocket boosters. “Let me get above the fight and see if I can get a location on her.”

“Watch your head, Fareeha. She’s a good shot.”

Pharah nodded at Tracer as she launched herself into the snowy sky.

“Alright. What’s the situation? Is the payload intact?”

The answer came from the final member of the team, Mei. “Lena, the children’s presents are ok. None of the Talon agents have been able to damage them.”

Tracer assessed her surroundings. The only access to their location was down the main street in front of them and the alley to their right. The Overwatch agents had a clear view of the battlefield, and were in a defensible position. With a little luck and Reinhardt’s shield, they might be able to buy themselves some time.

“Good, good. Let’s just wait for Pharah to report back. We can hold this position for bit.” Tracer returned her attention to the fight, and emptied the clips of her pulse pistols at the Talon agents, forcing them to momentarily take cover

“Um, Lena? There’s something you should know.” Tracer could barely hear Mei as another grenade crashed into Reinhardt’s shield.

“Huh?”

“Um, this snow? It’s going to get a lot worse, and really fast. We need to get to the dropship soon, or we’ll be stuck here until the storm passes. We can’t fly in the storm that is headed this way.”

“Bollocks!” Tracer grumbled. “Alright, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” She opened her communications headset again. “Pharah. Status?”

“No luck. I can’t find her. I’m coming back.”

“10-4. Over.” Tracer turned to her team. “Pharah is on her way back. Let’s see if we can’t scare off these tossers.”

****

The team could hear Pharah’s jets as she returned to her team. Hovering above them, Pharah launched rocket after rocket in the small band of Talon agents. Trapped between rockets, ice shards and a large, angry German man, the Talon operatives slowly lost ground and began to disengage from the fight. Lena was confident they could make quick work of this fight after all.

Until she heard the crack of a single sniper round ring out above the roar of the battle.

It sounds like a cliché, but tragedy really does seem to make time stand still. Even for someone like Lena, whose relationship with time was anything but normal. But yes. Time froze. The snow seemed to just hang in the air. No one was moving fast enough. The entire battlefield was burned into her memory. The location of every enemy as they retreated. Every route to safe cover. The location of each of her teammates. Even then, Lena still wasn’t sure where the shot came from. That’s the thing about snipers; they just hide and deal out instant death.

This round wasn’t meant for Lena, though. The bullet tore into Pharah’s armor and she instantly plummeted towards the ground. Her team stared in disbelief as they watched Pharah fall past the rooftops, through the snow-filled air and down towards the cobblestone street. Mei was quick to react and created a large pile of snow to soften the impact. Pharah landed with a sickening crunch and launched a puff of fresh snow into the air. Again, Tracer heard the sound of a grappling hook as Widowmaker retreated into the shadows.

The team rushed to where Pharah crashed down. Between Mei’s ice walls and Reinhardt’s shield, they made a safe enough space for Tracer to try and save Pharah.

“Fareeha…” Tracer’s voice was uneven.

“Um. I got hit.”

“I see that, silly. Where?”

“Shoulder. She got my jet pack as well.”

“Let me see.” Pharah grunted as she removed part of her armor to show Tracer the wound. Once she got a good look at the injury, Tracer simply said “You’re going to be fine. Just sit still until we can get you out of here. I’m going to let command know.” She briefly locked eyes with Reinhardt before turning her back to the team. She didn’t want Pharah to hear what she had to say next. She opened her comms and requested a secure channel with command headquarters.

“Winston, this is Tracer. Talon was here. They ambushed us. We think they’re after the presents.”

“Copy. What is your location and status?”

“We’re on King’s Row, just outside the bookstore near the old foundry. And Winston? Widowmaker is here. We have an agent down.”

“Widowmaker? What? An agent down? What’s the status?”

“It isn’t good, big guy. I can stabilize them, and patch them up. But it won’t be enough. They need a real medic. Mei said that a storm is coming in fast. If we don’t get to the drop ship now, we’ll be stuck here for days. I’m not sure they’ll make it.”

“Understood, Lena. Just get to the drop ship. We’ll deliver the presents later. Stay safe. We’ll regroup when you get back to headquarters.”

“Copy that. I need to talk to Mercy, please. I need her to tell me how to do this.”

Tracer turned back to her team while she waited for Mercy to get on the line. “OK guys, we’re heading back to the drop ship. It looks like they’ve retreated. Let’s just be careful, ok?”

On the other end of the comms, a very tired, very concerned doctor answered. “Lena! What happened? Is everyone ok?”

“Hey doc. We got into a spot of trouble. Took a hit. I need you to walk me through patching this up so I can get us back to the ship.”

“OK. Turn on your heads up display so that I can see what we’re dealing with.”

“Can’t do that, love.”

“Tracer, we don’t have time for this. Just turn on the heads up display, please.”

“Angela. Listen to me. I can’t do that.”

Even over the communications line, Tracer could hear Angela’s breath catch. “Oh, god. Oh, god. Is she ok? Tell me she’s going to be ok. Please.”

“Yes. She will be. Just walk me through this and she’ll be fine. I promise.”

With the snow falling and the smoke from the battle clearing, Tracer and Mercy worked together as a perfect team. Tracer described the injury and, with a shaky voice, Mercy explained how to stanch the bleeding and safely transport Pharah to shelter. As the minutes wore on, though, the doctor’s patience wore thin.

“I can’t stand this anymore, Lena. Just… get her back to me. I need to help her. Let me fix my wife.”

“Of course. I think she’s good to get transported. We’re headed to the ship now.”

****

Tracer turned to Mei Reinhardt and filled them in on the plan. “Alright team, Pharah’s going to be fine, but we need to get her to the ship. Mei, did you tell him about the storm?”

“Yes, she did” grumbled Reinhardt. “Mei, some day, you’re going to have to explain to this old man how we have so much technology, but we still get surprised by snowstorms.”

“Well, Reinhardt, the problem is that metrologically, there is a complex set of ever-changing variables…”

“I said ‘some day’, Mei.” Reinhardt said with a chuckle. “Pharah, you ok to walk in this storm, champ?”

“No, she isn’t! Um, Mercy would zap me to death with those nanobots if I let her wife walk that far in this condition,” Tracer interjected.

“No vehicle. No shuttle. What are we going to do?” Mei asked as she looked worryingly at the sky and the increasingly heavy snow fall. “We don’t have much time.”

Tracer looked around desperately trying to find a solution. She was about to suggest they take turns carrying their injured friend, when she realized the answer was right in front of her. “You guys. I have an idea.”

****

Patience was never one of Lena’s strong points, even back before her accident with the Slipstream. She always had just a little too much energy and was just a little too hyper. She liked to think of it as part of her charm, but she knew that it grated on some people’s nerves. In times like this, though, she was able to put her excessive energy to good use. She zipped from shop to shop and home to home looking for a safe, secure spot.

Her idea was simple, really. Unload the presents for the kids. Load various Overwatch agents. Set the speed to maximum. And voila! Safe arrival at the drop ship. She just needed a safe place to stash these presents.

To most people, the presents were just Things. And Things are easily replaceable. To most people, it wouldn’t have been worth the effort to store the presents somewhere safe. To Lena, though, these presents were more than just Things. They were special. Very, very special.

The stretch of King’s Row where they were located was once a thriving, upscale neighborhood with a theater, hotel, bars and a bookshop. These days, the streets were often empty, even when the weather was good. Empty streets mean empty stores. Empty stores mean empty paychecks. It was a vicious cycle. The crisis drove away the business and left countless families in poverty. The shops and businesses looked nice, but the employees were really feeling the hit to their bank accounts.

The holidays were especially rough for the poorer families in the streets around King’s Row. There was barely enough money to get by on regular days. Holiday presents, even modest ones, were just out of reach for most families. Growing up, the only presents she and the other kids got were the ones given out by kind strangers. That was why she always volunteered for the annual Overwatch Holiday gift delivery mission. As a child, she looked forward to those gifts all year. As an Overwatch agent, nothing gave her more joy than watching a child open one of these gifts.

She couldn’t just leave them in the snow. Even with her friend injured and waiting to be transported home, Tracer needed just a few minutes to make sure that these kids eventually got their presents. So, she zipped from shop to shop to find the perfect place to store a giant stash of presents.

That was how Tracer zipped into Moriarty’s Fine Books.

****

The bell above the door jingled cheerfully as Tracer rushed through the front door of the bookstore. She’d been in the store plenty of times before, but not in a long, long time. Not since her Slipstream accident.She zipped from aisle to aisle, looking for the perfect place to store the presents until the team could get back in a few days. She blinked past the non-fiction section. Just past the travel books there was the customer service counter, and surely a storage room behind that. She blinked once again and was behind the counter, looking for the storage room when she heard a woman scream loudly and saw a book flying at her head.

She used her chronal accelerator to transport herself out of danger and back to the non-fiction aisle. “WAIT! WAIT! I’m an Overwatch agent! I’m not here to hurt anyone!”

“Overwatch? I thought you guys were illegal these days!” came the reply, tinged with an Irish accent. A very adorable Irish accent. Tracer shook her head to clear her mind.

“Look, I’m going step out from behind this bookcase, I’m not going to hurt you. Just, like, don’t throw any more books at my head, alright, love?”

“I’m not making any promises.”

Tracer sighed and stepped out, with her hands held out to show that she wasn’t holding her two pulse pistols. “See? No weapons.”

Her assailant emerged with a heavy book in her hand and her arm drawn back, ready to launch the tome at Tracer. “What in the world do you want? There’s been this battle outside, and now you come bursting in here with your…. your… zippy thing! And floppy hair. Acting like it’s all ok. Just get out! I don’t want anyone wrecking the shop again.”

“But, look. I have any emergency. One of my squad got hit. She’s hurt. I need to get her to the ship, but I have a payload that I need to store for a few days. When the storm clears, I’ll be back. Then we’ll be out of your way. Promise.”

“No, ma’am. Absolutely not. I’m not risking this shop over whatever you lot were fighting over.”

“It is important. Please. We need your help, and we don’t have much time.”

“I said no. What is it that is so important anyway? Some weapon or something? No way.”

“It’s presents. For the kids.”

“PRESENTS?! YOU BLEW UP THE NEIGHBORHOOD FOR PRESENTS?” Tracer had to blink out of the way as the shopkeeper threw the book at her with stunning accuracy.


	2. A Christmas Deal

Tracer narrowly dodged the book flying towards her head and retreated to cover again. This woman had better aim than most Talon grunts. She opened her comms set again.

“Tracer to Mission Kringle. Do you copy?”

Reinhardt warm chuckle came through Tracer’s headset. “We copy captain, what’s the plan?”

“This is what I want to do. Get the team and the payload to Moriarty’s Fine Books. I’m, um, negotiating with the owner to let us stash the presents here, then we’ll use the payload to get Pharah to the drop ship. We should be back at the base in no time.”

“Sounds good, captain, we’re on the way.”

“Thanks, Reinhardt. Oh. And, be careful coming into the bookstore. It’s a bit tense in here.”

****

Tracer tried to explain the situation to the angry bookseller again, but she wasn’t having much luck. The woman just wouldn’t listen, no matter how many times she tried to explain that yes, Overwatch was back. And yes, she really was Tracer. And yes, that really was Talon that attacked them. And yes, Overwatch was still technically illegal. And yes, that whole battle was over a cart full of Christmas presents. The response was always a lot of yelling, accentuated by curses that Tracer hadn’t even heard before.

Thankfully, the rest of the team arrived just in time to diffuse the situation before books started flying again. The bell over the door jingled, and Tracer heard Reinhardt’s booming voice. “HELLO?! IS ANYONE IN HERE? TRACER?”

“Over here!” she called out. Standing in the doorway, was her team. There was Reinhardt, carrying Pharah. Mei cautiously peeked out from behind Reinhardt and waved at Tracer.

“Whoa.” Exclaimed the bookseller as she looked up at the towering German soldier. “You’re…Reinhardt. You guys really are from Overwatch, aren’t you?”

Tracer emerged from the safety of her hiding spot, and blinked over to the woman. “What have I been yelling at you for the last 10 minutes?! Blimey!” She blinked again and was over next to Pharah, “How are you holding up, love? Feeling ok?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Tracer could tell that her friend was in some serious pain. Her bandages were holding, but she was still bleeding. That concerned the young pilot. Reinhardt carefully set Pharah down. She immediately tried to get up on her own, but a stern look from Tracer made her sit back down again with a grimace.

“Whoa” the bookseller said again. “Is she going to be ok?”

“Yes, if we can get her to the drop ship soon” Tracer replied.

Mei helpfully reminded everyone that time was not on their side. “Lena, the snow is getting heavier. I’m getting worried we’re not going to be able to get out of here.”

Tracer sighed and turned to the bookseller. She was surprisingly cute now that she wasn’t throwing books. The woman had long red hair and galaxy of freckles across her nose and cheeks. “Look, ma’am? I know this is a lot to take in. But we need your help. My friend here is hurt. We need to get her to our ship, so that we can get her proper medical treatment. It’s important. But to do that, we need to get these presents off our transport so we can use it to get her to the ship safely.”

“I already told you, I can’t let you keep that here. It’s already caused a huge battle in my neighborhood. Those goons have been trashing my place regularly for the last year anyway. I can’t afford to make my shop a target again. I can barely keep the doors open as it is. I hope you get to your ship safely. But you can’t stash your stuff here. Isn’t there somewhere else?”

“I ran all over the neighborhood. Everything else is locked up tight or doesn’t have a space for us to keep this many presents.”

“Lena, let’s just leave the presents and get to the ship” Reinhardt suggested.

“No! We can’t! They’re presents for CHILDREN. These are all they’ll get this year. We can’t let them down.”

“I get that it’s important. But we have to get to the ship. The kids will understand.”

Just then Pharah let out the most pitiful moan imaginable, concerning the Overwatch agents.

“Please? We don’t have much time before this storm grounds us” Mei pleaded.

The bookseller huffed. “Fine. But the moment this storm clears, I want this stuff out of here. And someone has to stay here to keep my shop safe in case they come back.”

“DEAL!” exclaimed Tracer.

****

It didn’t take them long to unload the cart. Between Tracer’s speed, Reinhardt’s muscles and Mei’s technology, they made short work of it. Once the presents were unloaded, Tracer popped open the control panel to the transport unit. Normally, the speed of the unit was limited because of the weight of the payload – the heavier the transport, the more power it took. If you’re not careful, the entire unit can explode. But since it was going to be carrying just a few people, instead of a massive stack of presents or a military-grade weapon, she could safely increase the unit’s maximum speed. Finally, she programmed the unit’s auto-pilot to take them directly to the drop ship.

“OK, we’re all set. Mei, can you get Pharah settled into the transport?”

“Yes! Right away!”

There had been a brief but heated discussion about who would stay behind with the presents. Tracer was the best pilot in Overwatch, by far. Plus, the bookseller was still very mad about the situation and seemed to blame Tracer. But, it was Tracer’s mission and she was the one that insisted on keeping the presents. So, she would be the one to stay behind. The ship’s autopilot could get them safely to the base. Reinhardt and Mei were needed on other missions, anyways. Tracer wished the team well, and gave them strict instructions to keep comms channels open until they arrived safely at the ship.

****

Tracer assumed that Widowmaker and the other Talon agents left King’s Row once Pharah was hit. It was clear that a storm was coming, and the presents weren’t going to be delivered. Surely, they considered it a successful mission and slinked back to Talon headquarters to plan their next attack. Tracer was sure that Talon wouldn’t be bothering the bookshop any time soon. The owner, however, was unconvinced and insisted that Tracer stay in the shop just in case.

“Here. You’ll want these. Should keep you warm.” The bookseller handed Tracer a stack of blankets and a pillow.

“Thank you… um, you know, I never asked you your name.”

“I’m Emily.”

Tracer extended her hand “I’m …”

“I know who you are, Tracer. I believe you. You’re only the most famous Overwatch agent.” Emily replied. Tracer could practically hear Emily's eyes rolling.

“Then why didn’t you believe me when I tried to explain?”

“Come on, you’ve seen the news reports. You know what they said about you all. And you’ve all been gone for YEARS. Even when we needed you around here. You were gone. All of you. Why would I believe that you were here now?”

“I’m so sorry.” Tracer said softly.

“It’s fine” Emily said as she finished setting up their make-shift camp. The store had a small reading area where shoppers could sit on over-stuffed couches and read while watching the people walk along the street outside. Emily had moved the couches away from the windows and turned them in two beds. Tracer had protested at first. There was no reason both of them had to stay. And if there was a fight after all, it would be much better of civilians weren’t around. Emily, however, remained unpersuaded. It was her shop, and she was going to make sure it was safe.

And so, the two women spent the remainder of their Christmas Eve under their respective blankets while the snow storm raged outside.


	3. Not-so-Silent Night

The bells in the clock tower at the end of King’s Row faithfully tolled as another hour passed and the snow continued to fall. It was as quiet and peaceful of a night outside as Tracer could remember. The wind had stopped, leaving the fantastically large snowflakes seemingly suspended in the night air as gravity slowly and delicately pulled them towards their brethren on the ground. However, the serenity never quite reached the couch where Tracer struggled to calm her mind and her heart.

She’d fallen into a routine. First, she would replay the entire fight from earlier that day, agonizing over every detail. It had been one of her first missions as a commander – a public relations event of sorts. It had a simple, straight-forward plan. She was supposed to lead a small non-combat team, composed of Overwatch members new and old, and escort a transport carrier full of presents. Times had gotten tough for the families in London, and this was Overwatch’s way of helping to bring a little joy to children during the holidays. It was sweet, kind-hearted mission and a good way to begin re-establishing Overwatch as a force for good.

Instead of delivering presents, she’d almost gotten her friend killed, she’d destroyed a neighborhood and now she was stuck for the foreseeable future in a bookshop with someone that hated her. The paperwork on this mission was going to be brutal.

Once she was done lamenting the mission for a while, Tracer would obsessively check her communications device to see if there was any update on Pharah’s condition. Hours ago, the team had returned to headquarters. Reinhardt and Mei were debriefed and sent to get rest before their next mission. Mercy had spent hours carefully repairing the damage to Pharah’s shoulder and the prognosis was good. Lena had promised Angela that her wife would come home safe, and she’d kept that promise. Tracer knew that there wouldn’t be any news this late in the night, but she couldn’t help checking again and again. At one point, Athena even offered to monitor Overwatch’s internal systems for any new information and alert Tracer, so that she could sleep.

Once she’d satisfied herself that no new information was forthcoming, Tracer would toss and turn. _You were gone. All of you._ Those words haunted her. They weren’t malicious. It wasn’t vitriol. It was truth. How many people had died, or been injured, or lost everything? Hundreds? Thousands? More? She shuddered at the thought.

Being “Tracer” was hard work for Lena. As an Overwatch agent, she’d seen things that she wished no one else ever needed to see. At times, being her trademark cheerful self was difficult. What made it possible for her to be cheerful was that she knew deep in her heart that she was helping people and making the world a better and safer place. Indeed, it made it impossible for her to be anything other than aggressively cheerful.

But Emily’s words had cut her to the quick. They’d taken too long to reform Overwatch and people had suffered. That called in to question everything Tracer thought she knew about herself. Was she really the hero she tried so hard to be?

She repeated the routine for hours. Obsess over the mission. Check communications. Question her own moral compass. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

****

“You know… I had a poster of you, once.” Emily said, still snuggled under a multitude of mismatched blankets and quilts. Apparently, Tracer wasn’t the only person having trouble sleeping.

Tracer chuckled, “You did? ”

“Well, it was for my niece, really. Honest! But yes. I had a poster of you.”

“Oh goodness. Now I’m embarrassed!”

“It’s not so silly, really. You were a hero, Tracer. A woman fighter pilot keeping the world safe? My niece loved you, and I couldn’t think of a better role model.”

“Just doing my job, ma’am” Tracer quipped.

“And,” Emily continued, “you were out. That meant a lot to the rest of us in the community. Here’s this cute lesbian, zipping around fighting for omnic rights, taking down Talon, every day. We were all so proud. Do you have any idea how many young queer women joined the military just to follow in your footsteps?”

“I had no idea. I mean, I hoped I was doing the right thing and that others would help. But I didn’t know. We were all so wrapped up in the struggle, and then the aftermath. I never stopped to think.”

“That’s what hurt so bad when you all just… fucking disappeared.” Emily sat up now, her eyes locked on Tracer. “We counted on you. We needed you. Sure, King’s Row itself is still pretty posh. But we’re struggling here. Business is down. None of us can afford to pay our employees what they deserve. And these goons keep trashing our shops, stealing our inventory and scaring away the few customers we had. And you all just disappeared like we didn't matter. It was like you didn't even think about what we would do when Overwatch was gone.”

“We’re back now, and I’ll do my best to make sure things are safer here.”

“No, Tracer. If the shitshow that we saw today is what happens when Overwatch is back, then, don’t.”

“But that was Talon…”

“And they were only here because Overwatch wanted the publicity of a charity event. Our neighborhood is wrecked, and you’re all gone again but we have to clean it all up. Again.”

“We’re not gone! I’m still here!” Tracer said hopefully.

“Hrmph.” Emily said as she sunk back under her blankets. “Just, quit tossing and turning over there and let me get some sleep.”

“Emily?”

“What?” she said, on the verge of exasperation.

“You said I'm cute.”

“Go. To. Sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Edited to fix a copy/paste issue. Sorry!  
> Feel free to leave comments.  
> Merry Christmas, heroes.


End file.
